


Buy Your Peace of Mind

by gala_apples



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes The Company makes mistakes. Well, allegedly makes mistakes. They tend to pay people off before official complaints can be logged. Finn makes his own mistake trusting one of The Company's products, and winds up without the dick he's grown up loving, without a girlfriend, and with a sudden chance to pursue a relationship with his very straight best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While Finn will have female genitalia for most of the fic, I subscribe to the theory of 'you're the gender you believe you are', and thus he'll be using male pronouns. That's not to say that others will be respectful, because, well, McKinley's not exactly beyond the gender binary.
> 
> Set somewhere after Special Education and before Silly Love Songs, while presuming that Finn and Rachel didn't break up in Special Education.

The good news is now Finn will be able to afford going to college, whether or not he gets a football or choral scholarship. He’s getting paid a lot of money to settle out of court. Or at least that’s what Mom says. At this point Finn feels like he has to trust her. He can say with almost certainty that she’s going be the only adult that reacts in a way he can handle.

Under the circumstances she was presented with, most moms would get hysterical. At best they’d call 911, at worst pass out. She drove home without frantically asking questions over the open line, then drove him to the hospital without blinking an eye, and spent the time Finn was in the waiting room on the phone with The Company. By the time he was done so was she. Five hundred thousand to not let anyone know this happened because of The Company girl’s breakfast cereal he ate. 

It didn’t seem like a bad idea when he was grocery shopping and the boys Company cereal was sold out. It was still oat chunks and marshmallows, they were just marshmallows in the shape of tiaras and purses and high heels instead of footballs and dogs and guns. But within ten minutes of slurping down the slightly tinged milk -pink, of course- Finn had dropped to his knees on his way to grab the video game he’d promised to lend Mike. He’d fallen down the rest of the stairs, the pain oddly focused on his chest and hips, never mind the limbs that were hitting the edges of the staircase. When he’d stood up his boy bits were gone, in their place an obnoxiously big set of boobs. 

Finn had spared a second upon realisation to consider making another grilled Cheesus in order to have something to pray to. Then he’d realised he was being stupid and called his mom at work.

Now he’s sliding into the passenger seat again, slightly dismayed that even though he’s got different outsides he still doesn’t have to adjust the seat. He’s still abnormally tall. Actually, it’s even worse now because girls aren’t supposed to be tall, the exception being models, and he’s definitely not pretty enough for that.

His mom puts the keys in the ignition but doesn’t start the car. Finn shifts, mentally uncomfortable in the stillness, and gets a good dose of physical discomfort for the action. The fabric of his jeans shift and pinch his thighs brutally. Their cut is not meant for the female form. He’s really got no idea how Kurt shops from every section of a store, if this is what happens when you wear clothing not meant for your gender.

“Are we gonna go now, or-”

She cuts him off, determined to have a much more serious conversation than ‘home or fast food after school snack’. “Finn, the way I see it we can do two things.”

“Okay?”

It must be enough to declare him officially on board, because she starts driving. “We can pull you out of McKinley and send you to a different school, so no one knows. Or you can decide to keep going to the school where your friends are.”

Nothing good will come of going back to McKinley. Bieste probably won’t let him stay quarterback. Sam and Quinn will officially become the power couple because he won’t be him and Rachel. Shit, he doesn’t even know if his voice sounds good in female registers. Rachel will probably break up with him if he can’t sing.

“I’m gonna stay at McKinley. Kurt already left, I can’t-”

Finn’s mom stamps on the break and Finn thinks for the thousandth time that he inherited his crappy driving skills from someone. “Finn Hudson, don’t you dare blame Kurt’s leaving on Kurt. It’s because of that ignorant school board, and that useless principal.”

“It’s not Kurt’s fault, I know. It’s stupid Karofsky’s. But we’re only at twelve because Puck bribed Zizes with chocolate or something. I can’t leave them with only ten good singers. I _can’t_.”

“You have to make this decision for you, not them.”

He is. He’s too selfish to want to deal with that level of guilt. “I’m not leaving McKinley.”

“If you’re sure.” She says it like she doesn’t think he should be sure, but no. Finn can’t bail, not with his role in Kurt’s departure. “Do you want to go home? Or shopping for the things you’re gonna need? Or-”

“Take me to Rachel’s.” This isn’t going to be good, and he’d really like to get it over with.

Once again proving that she’s pretty great, his mom doesn’t try to embarrass him by idling. She’s gone before Finn’s ringing the doorbell. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s stood there, he still gets nervous. He still crosses his fingers that Mr and Mr Berry won’t answer the door and accuse him of defiling their daughter.

“Hello. I’m sorry to inform you that we won’t be buying raffle tickets at this time. Also, all three occupants are Jewish, so-”

“Rach, it’s me.”

“Me who? I don’t know you.”

Finn had spent a lot of the time in the waiting room darting into the nearest bathroom and looking at himself, trying to force himself to get used to it. Issues caused by The Company aren’t known for going away, and he’d figured plan for the worst, hope for the best. A fairly good plan, now that he knows how things are going to go down. Staring at himself he hadn’t thought his face had changed that much. But maybe Rachel’s just refusing to see it.

“I’m Finn.” He watches Rachel’s expression change and thinks that it’s probably a good sign that she’s not arguing with the ‘girl’ in front of her. “And I’m not legally allowed to say but I think you can guess how this happened.”

Her voice is brittle when she asks “and when’s your appointment to get turned back?”

“I don’t have one. The doctor I saw can’t do anything. I can’t go to headquarters, they don’t care. Basically I just have to wait. The doctor said it’ll happen naturally, she kind of implied that I wasn’t the first it had happened to, without saying anything that could get the hospital’s hush money taken back, and she definitely implied that they’d all changed back eventually.”

“But when? Before Regionals?’

“I don’t know.” It’s a half truth. Finn doesn’t know when his breasts are going to shrink to nothing and his dick will grow back. He does know it’s supposed to be closer to months than days. But Rachel has a history of not taking devastating news well. Refusing to get dressed or shower when she got laryngitis is only one example. And a certain miss at Sectionals is definitely devastating to her.

“Do you want to come in? You can help me figure out if Puck or Artie will be a better co-lead, in the terrible case of you not being back to yourself yet.”

An hour later Finn’s walking out. He still has boobs, he has a skirt that Rachel thinks will fit him without having to commit to buying anything, and he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Rachel ‘has no sapphic tendencies’, which he guesses means she isn’t a lesbian. She’d like to continue to date him once he turns back, however.

Finn walks from Rachel’s house to Puck’s apartment block. It’s not that far. They all live in the same catchment area to go to McKinley, after all. Rachel probably would have been willing to give him a ride in one of her dad’s cars, but he needs some time. Just a little time in which to call her a selfish bitch and an ingrate and every hostile thing he can think of, so when the guys find out that they’ve broken up and do the buddy thing of starting to slander her he’s strong enough to tell them to stop. Finn just needs to get the bile out of his system, and a twenty minute walk gives him the time for that.

Technically he should have to buzz the Puckerman apartment. Realistically it’s the biggest apartment block in Lima, and there’s always been a homeowner either leaving or coming home, every time Finn’s ever come over. This time it’s a lady with a handful of empty mesh produce bags exiting Driftwood, and he slips in behind her. Three flights of stairs later -because Coach Bieste has a thing about them taking elevators- he’s knocking on the apartment door. 

It’s not until he’s shifting from foot to foot that Finn thinks about the fact that he didn’t text Puck to say he was coming over. They’re not little kids anymore, they’ve got lives now, and he really should know better than to think that Puck’s free just because he wants him to be. It’s not a practise day, but Puck’s probably busy with something else, like attempting to woo Lauren, or-

“Hey.” Puck’s eyes narrow. “Hey are those tits?”

“Yeah.”

“Sucks, dude. At least you didn’t turn into an animal. Sarah drank the last of the root beer and” his voice doubles in volume “put the bottle with a half freakin’ inch back in the fridge like a total _cow_ -”

“You’re such a whiner!” she screams back from somewhere within the apartment.

“So you’re gonna have to have like, milk or water. Unless you wanna walk to the Rexall.”

“Chocolate milk or white milk?”

“White but we have Nes-quik.”

“That’s fine.” Finn comes in as Puck steps aside. He kicks off his shoes and puts them on top of the laundry basket full of sandals and sneakers tucked under the coat rack. It gets kind of gross in the winter, but with no snow on the ground it’s fine.

Puck turns on Halo while Finn makes himself something in the kitchen. Sarah’s either in her bedroom or in the bathroom, both doors are closed. Finn throws himself beside Puck and takes the controller offered.

“Is that all you have to say? About the whole...” he trails off, but the about should be obvious, really.

Puck shrugs. “I mean what else is there? You didn’t do this on purpose. I’d know if you were trans, you definitely would have told me. So it was an accident and it sucks. Fuck The Company, although you’re probably not even allowed to say it was them.”

“You’re not freaking out nearly as hard as I thought you would.”

“I guess I sort of expected something like this.”

“What?” Who just expects that their best friend will show up in their apartment block wearing the wrong body?

“Well, Berry started Liking all these anti-Company things on Facebook. So something had to happen to someone she cared about. Which, since it’s her, leaves her dads, herself, you, and Barbra Streisand.”

Finn takes a sip of his fake chocolate milk so he doesn’t snicker at the idea of Puck updating his Facebook the whole afternoon. It’s a little lame, but he really doesn’t want to discourage Puck. An obsession with Farmville is better than more shit like trying to bust into an ATM.

“People are going to want to give you shit, and I’m gonna wanna punch them in the face. But ‘I’m protecting the girl’ isn’t any better to my P.O. than ‘I’m protecting the queer’. So Mike and Sam are gonna be the big men again, which completely sucks.”

“It’s fine. You would if you could.” 

He doesn’t expect Puck to be settled with his one comment, and he’s right. Puck’s scowl continues as he speaks again. “So yeah, I guess you should crash their houses next, so you can buddy up with them. Unless you trigger a protective response in Zizes and 'Tana, then by the end of the week the hockey douches will be scared to even look at you. I hope it’s them, actually. I’d totally jizz my pants watching Zizes make Rick The Stick cry.”

Finn shakes his head. “I can talk to them tomorrow. Sam did it automatically, last time.”

“Okay, whatever. I’ve got a whole bottle of Nes-quik.”

“Cool,” Finn answers. He’ll just carefully not think about how much Puck wants Lauren Zizes, like he carefully hasn’t since their Seven Minutes in Heaven. He can’t do shit about it, or about anyone else Puck might like. It’s not his place. His place is here, on the stained old couch the Puckermans have had since Finn was nine, with video games and really crappy snacks because someone’s always just finished eating the last of something good when he arrives.


	2. Chapter 2

Finn’s not sure what to expect the next morning at school. Rachel’s got like a thousand Facebook friends because she has everyone her parents have ever had a dinner party with, and everyone she’s ever taken an after school course with, and everyone from all the school clubs she’s joined. “Networking’, she calls it. But there’s a difference between Rachel friending someone and them reading her page, and a further difference between them skimming and actually attempting to figure out her motivations for posting what she does. For all Finn knows Puck’s the only one who will have bothered.

The Glee room is always open before first period but it’s never at full attendance. The Cheerios sometimes have morning practice, and while Santana and Quinn and Brittany are pretty good at straddling loyalties, they’d have to be insane to miss a practice for mere hanging out. The AV club likes to meet before first period too, which means Artie and Lauren and sometimes Sam, although from what Finn understands they just like him for background shots and the occasional impersonation. And usually at least one of them will be on a computer in the library frantically finishing an essay that should have been done the night before. 

The Glee room has never had full morning attendance, until today. All eleven members of New Directions are sitting, Sam and Puck moving their thumbs in ways that make Finn bet they’re discussing video game cheats, Mercedes taking pictures of a magazine Tina has splayed over her lap, probably sending them with added opinions to Kurt and his gay Dalton friend. The various clusters are happily talking until they notice him walk in. Then a hush falls. Subtlety; a service his friends just don’t offer.

“You’re stacked, Hudson,” Artie calls out, first to break the silence. He follows up the statement with a wolf whistle.

Finn could freak out. It’s a definite option. But better to save the rage for people that are actually giving him shit, right? He tells himself to let it go, play it off. He’ll need a twelve strong alliance for when the rest of the school realise it’s not a new girl sitting in Finn Hudson’s spot in all his classes and the talk starts.

Finn looks down at his chest. “What, these? Cost about five hundred k.”

“Damn.”

“You should buy Glee a jet to get us to comps.”

“I want a narwhal,” Brittany says. “Or you can buy me a whale and a unicorn and I can watch them make sweet rainbowy love.”

"I dunno. I think I'd want at least a million to lose my dick and my voice."

“Shit. Yeah. Can you sing?”

Santana shrugs. “As long as we’re twelve it doesn’t matter. Zizes can’t sing.”

Lauren, who, as far as Finn knows, has never sang a song besides their Sectionals songs, decides to be offended. “Eat me.”

“I’m on a diet. Have you ever heard of them?”

“Guys,” Mr Schue interrupts. At least half the guys in the room sag at the intervention. Some day soon Santana and Lauren are going to have a cat fight of epic proportions. Nobody wants to miss it, which means that it would be best if it happened during Glee. Schue playing peacemaker prevents that.

Still standing at the front of the room, Finn decides he’ll prove himself. He was the only one of the original six that didn’t have to audition, now that he’s got a new voice -however temporary- he might as well. He tells first the band, then Brad to play Cry Me A River. It’s a good popular song, they all know it. A good thing, because it’s too spur of the moment for him to have printed sheet music for them all. Finn can’t do the slick dancing. Hell, Justin couldn’t have done the slick dancing without CGI. But he can sing it just fine. It matches his new register fairly well, better than Dashboard Confessional or Thrice or his other favourite bands would.

He’s not even a minute in before Tina and Mike are on the floor behind him. Mike’s doing a really spinny twirly kind of pop and lock, and Tina’s doing her best to imitate him. Sectionals was the final bit of proof that Brittany would do it better, but Tina’s doing pretty good, and honestly, she’s probably a dozen times better than he would be without extensive practice.

It becomes even more of a group number towards the end. Instead of Finn having to throw his voice a little to be the second singer, Artie and Santana both come in with Timbalands’s _Boom, oh! The damage is done so I guess I be leavin’_ , smirking at each other from opposite sides of the risers, and then Sam is the counterpoint, the second Justin voice for the last minute.

When they’re done everyone that was left unparticipatory applauds. Sam and Santana sit down from where they burst up, and Mike and Tina go back to their seats. Finn scans the risers for a moment. There’s an open seat beside Rachel, but the break-up’s too fresh for that. He sits beside Quinn because it’s that or Brittany, and he’s got this weird feeling that Brittany will poke at his boobs out of curiosity. 

Artie hoots “Guess the girl can _sang_!” and does a complicated throwing gesture that Finn guesses matches the slang. He’s never really quite gotten Artie’s wanna be black thing, but if Mercedes and Matt never felt the need to call him out about it, it’s not really Finn’s place.

“Wait, is that right?”

Finn twists to look at Tina. “Is what right?”

Mercedes answers for her, evidently on the same wavelength. “You. Artie called you a girl. Is that something you’re down with?” 

His first instinct is to pawn it off with a whatever, but a voice in his head that sounds kinda like Mom and kinda like Kurt and kinda like Rachel tells him to stop and think it out. Whatever Finn says, Glee will back him up with, but he has to know what he wants.

“I don’t care what pronouns you use,” he says eventually. “Just keep calling me Finn. The jocks are gonna use ‘essa or ‘oria or something, I know it. So if you guys could _not_.”

Mr Schuester claps his hands together. “Finn Hudson it is.”


	3. Chapter 3

By lunch time Finn is fucking exhausted. He made his choice to stay at McKinley and deal with it rather than make a stink on principle -and because his mom kind of made it for him- he didn’t make it based on the money. Which is good, because no dollar amount would be fair pay for the sheer amount of crap he’s gotten in the last few hours. Frankly, Finn would love to cram The Company’s bribe up their collective asses. Or, like, go home and nap. He didn’t exactly sleep well last night, between worrying about everyone’s reactions, and his boobs getting in the way of his normal sleeping positions. Sleeping until everyone either shuts up or his body goes back to normal sounds like a plan.

Finn’s tray is comprised of three things. He’s got a bottle of Pepsi, a butterscotch pudding, and as many tots as will fit on his plate. A mountain of tots, basically. He missed the tots riot, eating lunch with Rachel on the stage and making out, but he would have joined if he’d been in the cafeteria, Kurt thinking it’s insane or not. Tots are great, an amazing comfort food, and fuck anyone who says he can’t eat them. If Finn can’t burn down Company headquarters or sleep for three months, he is goddamn well going to have a full plate of tots.

He’s almost at the cashier when a hand claps down on his shoulder. Two semesters of slushies have Finn wincing and closing his eyes, but he feels oddly reassured when someone behind him protests with a _hey!_ and is growled at. It’s just Puck, exhibiting one of his personal rules; lines are for people that aren’t me.

“Just a suggestion man, but don’t sit with the team. I know Beiste isn’t revoking your spot, but making a point like that’s probably not worth it.”

Finn laughs, if somewhat bitterly. The football team are a bunch of air weather friends. If that wasn’t obvious the moment they all paintballed him last year, it sure as fuck was when they made him throw a slushie at Kurt to prove his place. He knows damn well that Azimio or Brandon are more likely to hit him in the face with a chair so they don’t ‘catch girl’ than they are to let him sit in one.

“I’ve got no dick, not no brain.”

“Yeah, well. Whatever. Sit with me and Artie and Brittany.”

“You think Artie’s my best option right now?”

Puck cocks an eyebrow. “Why not?”

He shouldn’t have to explain this. It seems friggin obvious to Finn, and Puck doesn’t like lectures. But he can’t just say _because_. That’s a bullshit non-argument that sounds like he’s Puck’s mom. “Because he was staring my boobs the entire time this morning. It’s gonna get weird. If he keeps on the entire time I’m like this, when I turn back he’ll think I should still have them.”

“Look, man. I can pretty much guarantee Artie will be checking out your tits again. Brittany too, probably. I mean I dunno if she even knows who you are. But around him we’ll keep it nostalgic. We’ll keep reminding him of shit you did in the past. If burping-the-alphabet, wearing-too-much-flannel past you is all up in his mind’s grill, he won’t mistake you for anyone.”

Finn’s only half convinced. Seems like eating with some of the chess club would be easier. He doesn’t know the real names of the horse and the chimney and the pope hat, but they’ll probably be happy to teach him.

“Dude, I’m not gonna beg any more than this. I’ll help keep your innocence from Artie and Brittany. Although don’t you wanna get some lez time in with Brittany? Last time I checked Santana had taught her same sex doesn’t count as cheating.”

“Fuck off,” Finn mutters. He’s not a lesbian. He’s not a woman that likes women. He’s a man that likes women. And sometimes men. But no one actually knows that, because he’s either a coward or a teenager that can recognise his surroundings and the importance of camouflage, self-definition depending how how guilty he feels at the time. But the point is, temporary vagina or not, he’s not a lesbian.

He forks over his money to the cashier and pauses. He just wants to go wherever he’ll get the least about of crap. Which, actually, probably isn’t standing here. Just because the person Puck cut in front of doesn’t dare snap at them for holding up the line, doesn’t mean Finn doesn’t know he is. Doesn’t mean that there’s not someone bigger and less afraid of Puck’s juvie reputation further down the line about to shout at him.

Puck plucks a tot from his plate. He tosses it into his mouth, and around his chewing says “come on dude, make up your mind.”

“Tomorrow I’m wearing a hoodie,” Finn mutters.

“Won’t stop anyone from thinking about what’s underneath it, but whatever makes you feel better,” Puck replies, but takes Finn’s words for the backing down they are. Without any actually comforting, chivalrous touching, Puck steers him through the full tables to where Artie and Brittany are sharing a plate of nachos. 

“Oh man. Shit. Nachos? I remember this one time Hudson and I were playing pool at this youth club, and these three girls came up to us-”

The longer Puck goes on, the more Finn becomes positive he’s completely talking out of his ass. He doesn’t remember a damn word of this happening. But the long lie Puck’s weaving is like ninety percent about how manly girls find Finn’s arms and chest and other attributes, so Finn really has to forgive him for the utter bullshit. Despite... other things Finn really tries to not think about any more, Puck really is a great friend.

***

Walking into the choir room after school is a relief. Like he’s had to pee all day, and just got to a bathroom. Only emotionally. Which is kind of dumb, probably, since his ex is here, and his other ex, and his never going to happen crush, and he’s pretty sure any minute now Artie is going to suggest a threesome. It should be just as stressful as the douchebag snarkers he’s faced all day. But it’s not. Glee has always seemed like comfort, even when it’s full of drama.

Like this morning, everybody is already seated. This time Finn blames it on his last class being on the other side of McKinley, not on stalling out of nerves. He sits in the front row between Puck and an empty seat because it seems safest. Out of the eleven, Puck’s given the least amount of shits. Besides, Puck’s got Lauren beside him, which means Finn might need to say something as a quick intervention. It’s not cockblocking Puck’s one-liners if the words wouldn’t get anything beyond a fist in the face.

Mr Schuester waits until they’re as quiet as they’re going to get before he starts talking. “Hey guys. Considering the recent turn of events, I’m thinking we can forgo theme this week and just do freestyle.”

Finn smiles a little. Yeah, he’s still Mr Schue’s favourite. When other people have crazy life events, like Tina not being allowed to be goth, for example, they make a week of it. Whether or not the person wants them to. If Sam had eaten the girl’s Company cereal Glee would have gotten another theme week about gender, or one about changes.

“Anyone have something off the top of their heads? A cappella, since we can’t assume Brad knows every song in the world.”

Rachel’s arm shoots into the air like a rocket. Before Mr Schuester can say anything, Santana, who’s sitting behind her, uses the arm as leverage to stand up. She strides confidently into the middle of the room, short Cheerios skirt swaying with the movement.

“Finn’s Justin tribute earlier got me thinking. We really didn’t use Britney as well as we could have.” Finn waits for Kurt to shout _amen_ , then remembers. Fuckin’ Karofsky. “Apart from our trip songs, we only actually sang one. So here’s another.”

It takes about half of the first verse for Finn to recognise the song as Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman. It should maybe say something him that he recognises it before the titular lyric, but this song mostly just says that Santana is a bitch. 

Then someone does something amazing. They throw a ball of paper at her. Santana stops singing as it hits her nose. The open textbook with jagged pages makes Finn realise it’s Puck just before Santana does, and she’s not very impressed. Santana stalks forward, and they all freeze. Really, Santana should have been the one to take on Karofsky, not Mike and Sam. She could have scared him bad enough that he’d be in an asylum right now. 

Santana’s almost got Puck’s neck in her hands and no one’s doing a thing to stop it, not even Mr Schue. Then she’s stopped with a shoe to her stomach. Not a kick, a literal shoe pressing lightly against her stomach, like stopping a shorter person with a hand to the forehead.

“Not so fast,” Zizes says. “Puck can’t hit a girl, but I am, so I can.”

Santana sneers. “You’re not a girl, you’re a troll.”

“Actually, the team calls me The Monster sometimes. Point is, until you’ve been fucked by The Company you don’t get to make fun, and you don’t get to freak out at the only person in this room smart enough to know that.”

She tries for innocent. “I was only returning us to Britney Week.”

“Yeah?” Puck asks. “Then here’s one that’ll work just as well.”

Finn blinks. He didn’t even know that Puck knew Britney lyrics. He’d only seemed vaguely willing to learn Toxic for the assembly. But there’s no questioning that he’s standing up as Santana sits back in the third row, looking like she wants to kill everyone with her eyes. And then Puck starts singing.

I see you,  
And I just wanna dance with you

Every time they turn the lights down  
Just wanna go that extra mile for you  
You got my display of affection  
Feels like no one else in the room (but you)

We can get down like there's no one around  
We keep on rocking, we keep on rockin'  
Cameras are flashing while we're dirty dancing  
They keep watching, keep watchin'  
Feels like the the crowd was saying

Gimme Gimme more- Gimme more- Gimme gimme more  
Gimme Gimme more- Gimme more- Gimme gimme more  
Gimme Gimme more- Gimme more- Gimme gimme more  
Gimme Gimme more- Gimme more- Gimme gimme more

The center of attention, even when we're up against the wall  
You got me in a crazy position  
If you're on a mission  
You got my permission oh

Gimme Gimme more- Gimme more- Gimme gimme more  
Gimme Gimme more- Gimme more- Gimme gimme more

Everyone applauds in different ways when Puck comes to an end. There are some surprised, almost hesitant claps. There are some that are enthusiastic, whether for their love of Spears or their interest in Puck’s ability to master a techno song acapella Finn can’t guess. Lauren’s clapping is definitely sarcastic, since she pretty clearly thinks she’s too badass for Glee. Mr Schue’s is equally clearly torn between _great job Puck_ and _that was so inappropriate, I’m gonna get fired_. ‘Santana started it’ is an excuse that won’t really fly as a teacher.

Puck takes the clapping as his due, but he isn’t finished. Before he sits down he starts speaking to the group. “Because let’s face it. Anyone that sees that,” Puck gestures, moving his hand up and down to showcase all of Finn, “and doesn’t want on it? Totally mental.”

Logically Finn should be skeeved out by this. If he doesn’t like that Artie and Brittany and a few hecklers whose comments didn’t quite ring true think this false body of his is hot, he shouldn’t like that Puck thinks he’s hot. It’s hypocritical. But he’s not skeeved out. It’s actually freakin’ great. Puck likes him. Well, not the him that’s really him. And it’s totally abstract liking, since it’s not like Puck’s going to bang him on the choir room floor. But now Finn can rest with the knowledge that in an alternate life where he’d been born a girl, he and Puck would have been friends with benefits. And that? That’s information worth suffering through the day for.


End file.
